Let Go of Your Heart
by TheREALCarbyLove
Summary: I hear his feet pounding on the steps behind me, and with a sudden flash of insight, I realize that coming up here was a bad idea. Once I hit the roof, he’ll be right behind me. And then what? "
1. You Oughta Know

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Title: Let Go of Your Heart 

Author: Andrea (CarbyLove@aol.com)

Rating: R. Not yet, but just to keep things simple … we'll go with that. 

Summary: Read it and find out. I will tell you that it's a Carby. Of course it is. And it's not really a spoiler based fic, but I guess you could call it inspired by the events of this season *so far.* And this is just one possibility for where those events could lead. It's not speculation as to what I *think* will happen . In fact, I'm pretty sure things won't happen in this way or any of the ways I imagine … since, you know, they rarely do. So it's just something that I'd like to see. Of course, if Wells and Chulack would like to hire me as a writer, well then … But until that time, it's just the random ramblings of my mind. 

Disclaimer: Need I point out that I own nothing and no one? Yeah, I didn't think so. And Lanie … you know I thought of this, too … all on my own even … so no fair saying I stole it. (And if anyone really wants to know, I think I thought of it first. Because clearly no one else would think the same thing I'm thinking. Or wait, maybe that happens all the time … so yeah, never mind.) 

Spoilers: Oh, probably just up to episode 10.4, 10.5. And only very general ones at that. In fact, there's really only one thing that is based on what's *going to* happen as opposed to what has happened or what I'm just plain making up. But I'm thinking that anyone who saw 'Dear Abby' and isn't … um … dead is probably clued in already. If not, just wait and read this one next week. Or, you know, tomorrow. 

Author's Note: Yeah, I can't stop. I don't know what's wrong with me, but I really can't stop. I'm addicted. So sad. But anyway … here's a new fic. Yay! Thanks to COURTNEY, as usual, for the encouragement … and, as always, the line by line editing. If anyone else has anything to say about it, I'd love to hear your comments. So hit that review button or e-mail me, please. Especially if you want more. The more encouragement I get, the faster I write. So you see … it's really to your advantage to review. Oh, and … what's with the song lyrics? I dunno … I felt like it. So many good songs, so little time. I like to think of them as setting the mood for the chapter. Imagine them playing in the background while you read, if you so choose. Cheesy? Maybe. But everyone needs a little shtick now and then. The title lyrics belong to David Gray. And this chapter's lyrics belong to Alanis Morissette. In case anyone doesn't already know. 

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*~*~*~* Let Go of Your Heart _*~*~*~* _

"If you want it, come and get it, crying out loud. The love that I was giving you was never in doubt. Let go your heart. Let go your head. And feel it now." ~ David Gray, Babylon

*~*Chapter 1: You Oughta Know*~*

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"Cause the love that you gave that we made Wasn't able to make it enough for you to be open wide"

*~*~*~*~*

"Abby … wait." I hear his feet pounding on the steps behind me, and with a sudden flash of insight, I realize that coming up here was a bad idea. Once I hit the roof, he'll be right behind me. And then what? Way to paint yourself into a corner, Abby. Of course, in all fairness to myself, I didn't really expect him to follow me up here. I push through the door and march over to the building's ledge, staring out at the nightscape of the city before me. 

"Abby?" 

It's warmer than I thought it would be out here. It's February, the dead of winter in Chicago, but we've been experiencing a warm snap the past few days. 

"I just want to talk to you, Abby."

Amazing to me that the city, which is so bleak and dreary by day during these long, cold months, can be so beautiful at night. The lights twinkling in the darkness of the crisp night air would make you think that this place is the most beautiful spot on Earth. But it's an all an illusion. Like so much else in my life.

"Why won't you talk to me?"

I cross my arms over my chest at a sudden chill. Maybe it's colder than I thought. 

"Abby?" I can hear the defeat, the sadness in his voice. And then the bitterness, "So glad to see you've changed." 

I'm so stunned that I turn around and look at him for the first time. But I just stare at him because I find that I have nothing to say. How am I supposed to answer that? A year ago, on this very roof, he told me that he wanted to marry me. And then he took it back because he was afraid that I could never change. And now that I have, he can't even see it. Or it's still not good enough for him. And that's fine, because it's not about him, and it never was. Whatever changes I've made in my life have been for myself. Why would I do it for him? He doesn't even want me. Why should I care what he thinks? So why _do_ I care what he thinks? Well, maybe if he hadn't made it a point to chase me up to here to point out one more way that I've disappointed him … 

"I'm sorry," he says, sounding contrite. "It's just … frustrating for me, you know?" 

No, not really. What's frustrating? That I won't make idle chit-chat with him now that he's deigned to grace me with his presence? Screw you, Carter. What do you know about frustration? Frustration is a 'fuck off' letter sent from halfway around the world, detailing your supposed failings. Frustration is having that letter passed around among everyone you know. Frustration is having the author of that letter drop back into your life without warning, wanting to act as if it never happened and blaming you for not being able to forget that it did. 

But I don't say any of that. I'm afraid of what might happen if I open my mouth. So I just stare at him, hoping that my face won't reveal my emotions. 

He looks back at me, and then away, out over the city as he begins to speak. "I guess, it's just … well, I came home and you were so … different. I wasn't prepared for that. I guess I just thought that things would be how they were when I left. I kept picturing this place, you, everything the way it was the last time I was here. Stupid, I know. But that's how it was. So when I saw you … I mean, med school? Don't get me wrong, I think it's great, but I wasn't ready for that. I prepared myself for you having some new boyfriend -- after all, I told you not to wait for me -- but a whole new career? It took some time for me to get to used the idea. But when I did, I wanted so much to talk to you about it, I wanted to talk to you about so many things, but … you wouldn't -- you won't -- talk to me." His voice is still calm, carefully measured, as he regards me for a long minute before turning away from me again.

"You act as if you didn't even notice that I came back. Or maybe it's that you just don't care. You seem so … indifferent when it comes to me. You weren't glad to see me. Not that I expected that, not after my last homecoming." The tone of voice is angrier now … or maybe …hurt? 

"But I thought that maybe you'd at least act like you cared. Even if you were upset. Hell, even if you were mad as hell and came at me with both barrels, it would have been better than this … apathy. It's as if you've forgotten everything that ever happened between us. It's like you don't care if I'm dead or alive. Certainly you don't seem to care about what we once had. And maybe you never did. God knows I tried so hard to get some emotion out of you. I just wanted to know that you were as … passionate about us as I was. I wanted to know that I mattered to you. But you never could give me that. Maybe I never really was that important to you." 

He turns and looks me in the eye. "You act like I don't matter to you one way or the other. Do you even care, Abby? Did you ever care? Or was I nothing more than just a good fuck to you?" 

It happens so fast -- fast as the jolt of lightening that suddenly illuminates us in the night sky -- that I don't realize what I'm doing until I see, in that flash of lightening, my hand slapping him across the face. Thunder claps over our heads, and then the sky opens up, unleashing a torrent that rains down on us. 

"How dare you!" I bite off the words angrily, infuriated beyond reason that he should even _suggest_ turning what we had into something so trivial. Can he really think that all he ever was to me was just sex? 

"You self-centered son of a bitch! _You_ want to know if _I _care? Do I care? _I'm_ not the one that ran away. _I'm _not the one who, the minute things got rough, threw up my hands and gave up on us. _I_ didn't run off, halfway around the world, just to get away from you because I was too much of a coward to face my problems!" 

"Oh, so now it's all my fault?" He sounds incredulous, as if he can't believe that I would think such a thing. Probably he also can't believe that I slapped him. He works his jaw a bit, bring his own hand up to his cheek where a red mark seems to be forming already.

"Well, you're the one who kept running away," I tell him, noticing that the rain has already soaked my hair, my clothes.

"And I suppose things were perfect until I left and ruined everything, huh?" And he says I'm sarcastic. Guess he took something away from our time together. 

"I never said things were _perfect_, Carter," I say, the anger still evident in my raised voice, although my emotion is somewhat tempered now. "I don't know what kind of fairytale you were living in, but welcome to the real world where things aren't always simple. I know we had our problems. But that doesn't mean you give up. Not if you really care. Everyone has problems, and relationships aren't easy; you have to work at them. And _I_ thought that we were working at it. Making progress. I thought things would get better. I wasn't the one who gave up on us."

"Oh right, Abby. I gave up on us. While you were open and honest and fully committed to making things work. Except, of course, that anytime something went wrong you would push me away. You didn't need me. You didn't want me. Hell, you kept telling me to go away." He's angry, yelling every bit as loud as I am. But the hurt in his voice is more raw now. He doesn't seem to notice the rain cascading down around him.

"I was just trying to protect you. I didn't want to drag you down with me." We've been over this. Must we do this again? 

"But I didn't want to be protected. That wasn't your decision to make." He turns away from me, the frustration in his voice just as evident in his tightly-clenched jaw and abrupt movements. He's frustrated, but then his voice takes on a softer tone. "All I wanted was to be with you Abby. To protect you. I didn't care what I had to go through, I just wanted to help you through it. If you just would have let me in, we could have gotten through anything together. We could have been happy. God, if you could ever stop with the gloom and doom for two minutes, maybe you would have seen that." 

"Well, excuse me for being scared. Excuse me for assuming that my life is going to be a series of tragedies. I don't know where I got such a crazy idea. Oh wait, yeah, I do. Only from my entire life's experience. Everything I touch turns into a disaster. Something always goes wrong." It's true. My personal life is a mess and always has been. That's why I'm better off just giving up. Besides, I have a career to concentrate on now. And there all I have to do is make life and death decisions on a regular basis. But it's easy … there's always a right and wrong answer. And if I don't know the answer, someone else will. I can figure out what the patients need, but when it comes to my own life … 

"But you can't live like that, Abby," Carter says, softly, interrupting my thoughts. "You can't base your whole life on what bad thing might happen."

"What other choice do I have?" I yell at him. Because what business is it of his anyway?

"You could be happy! You could stop dwelling on the bad things that you can't change. And start changing the things that you can."

"What do you think I'm doing? What do you think I've been doing?" My God, is he really that blind? "Why do you think I went back to med school? Because I wanted to be the one in the driver's seat in my life for once! Because I was miserable and I needed to change something … and that was the only thing I had control over. After all, you were gone. And you'd decided that we were nothing other than the disaster I was always terrified we would turn into. Not that you would have noticed if you'd been here, anyway. You were too damn worried about yourself to notice how hard I was trying." 

"How hard you were trying? How exactly were you trying, Abby? By not being there for me because you had more important things to do? By refusing to let me in … by refusing to let me make you happy?" I can tell by his body language that he's angrier about this than he's letting on. Well, fine. I'm angry too. 

"And when exactly were you trying to make me happy?" I spit at him, shoving a handful of rain-saddened hair out of my face.

"Always, Abby. That's all I ever wanted. It's why I wanted to see you stop being so negative. It's why I wanted to see you make some changes."

"And I did! I did change. And you didn't see it. Or you didn't think it was real. You accused me of trying to fake you out with some quick fix so I could get my hands on that ring. I was trying so hard to change. Not for you … but because of you. That night on this roof … when you said you wanted to marry me … I couldn't believe that it was really true. It was way too scary to hope that it could be. But a part of me couldn't help but hope … and then, at the restaurant … Look, I understood why you didn't propose. And I don't blame you. But you know, it made me take a good, long look at myself. And I realized that there were some things I didn't like. So I wanted to make some changes. For myself. But also so that I could be the person that you deserve." I've walked away from him now, but I turn back to look at him and see the sadness on his face.

"But I wanted you just the way you were, Abby."

"No, you didn't, John. That was the whole problem. You wanted to fix me," I say without anger so much as exasperation … and defeat. I look back out across the city in the rain, watching for the next lighting strike, and averting my gaze from him. 

"I didn't want to fix _you. _ I wanted help you fix your problems so you could get your life on track."

"So that things could be easy for you. But it was my life. Not yours."

"No, Abby. That's where you're wrong. Because it's not just your life. Why don't you get that? Everything that happened to you … happened to me too. And I … I couldn't stand seeing you miserable. But it seemed like at the first sign of trouble, you'd just fall apart." 

"How incredibly hypocritical." I turn back to look at him, hearing the disdain in my voice.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He asks, sounding as if he doesn't have any idea of what I'm talking about.

"I'm the one who fell apart when things went wrong? That's interesting." I hope my voice denotes my sarcasm. "So I guess I was supposed to be strong and think positive when … oh, I don't know … I found out my baby brother had the same disease that ruined my mother's life. Or, you know, when I thought he was dead. I should have just sucked it up and put on a happy face to make your life easier. Yet, when something bad happened in your life … it was okay for you to … fall apart. And it was okay for you to leave me." The anger is back full strength now. Who the hell does he think he is? Sitting in judgment on me, and then turning around and doing the same damn thing he condemned me for. 

"The same way you left me."

"What are you talking about?" My turn to be confused because I have no idea what he's getting at.

"Abby, my grandmother died. Do you have any idea what that did to me?"

"How would I? You didn't talk to me about it."

"You weren't there!" 

"For _one day_, Carter. My brother was sick. And I'm all he has. He needed me." 

"I needed you, too."

"You had a funny way of showing it. Wanting nothing to do with me. Who was pushing who away then?"

"Your brother made a mockery of my grandmother's funeral."

"And I apologized for that. What more could I do? It was a terrible thing, and I felt awful. I wanted to be there for you, but I needed to take care of Eric, too. What was I supposed to do?"

"I don't know, Abby. It just seemed like I was always lowest on your list of priorities. Everyone … everything else came first. I was always there to help you through, but when I needed you … it felt like you didn't care. And you have no idea how much that hurt. And I just kept thinking, 'Is this how it's always going to be?' You know, would I always have to wonder about my place in your life? And I was just … losing Gamma, things between us, work … everything just seemed so … hopeless." 

His voice is quieter now … and full of sadness. He doesn't even sound like himself. A part of me wants to just wrap my arms around him and tell him it's going to be okay. Just like that night when I found out he was going to Africa the first time. He sounded so sad … so defeated. But he didn't come to me. And that still hurts. Even now. Thinking about how different things could have been if only he wouldn't have run away, the anger flairs again. He went to Africa to escape. From me.

"Oh, well, no wonder you had to go to Africa to get away from me. Since I'd gotten to be such a burden, such a miserable failure."

"You were never a burden, Abby."

"Just a failure. Just a disappointment."

"You're weren't a disappointment."

"Of course I was. You told me so in that letter that you were nice enough to send. Nothing like being dumped from halfway around the world to make a girl feel good." More sarcasm, and this time I know it isn't lost on him.

"Abby …" He's giving me that look … asking me not to go down this road.

"What?" I don't know why I shouldn't let him know how that felt. He should know what it did to me. 

"I … I wanted to explain why I wasn't coming home. I thought you might understand." 

"Sure. I understood. I couldn't live up to your expectations. I wasn't good enough. So you were dumping me. It was pretty clear." 

"Abby, I said a lot of things in that letter that …at the time … Look, I wasn't thinking clearly. And … when I said it was me, not you. That much was right. But the rest of it …"

"Well, doesn't really matter much anyway, does it? Because … actions speak louder than words, right? So whatever your reasons … whatever your excuses … it doesn't matter, because you still left me."

"Abby … I never meant to hurt you." 

I laugh, but it's a mirthless sound as all my anger comes bubbling back to the surface. "Sure you didn't. That's why you left me." I bite off the words in bitter pieces, spinning around to face him. 

"You _left me!_" The rage in my voice shouldn't really surprise me. After all, my jaw is clenched, and my hands are balled into tight fists. I concentrate on the pain of fingernails digging into the palm of my hand, trying to hold back the angry tears that threaten to fall. 

"You left me, you asshole! How could you do that? The one thing I asked of you … the _only _thing I asked of you. And you couldn't do it. You had to go. Even after you promised me. You _promised_ that you weren't going anywhere. You promised! And I believed you. I _trusted_ you. And you left me." My voice is thick with tears of anger and frustration. 

"Oh, Abby, I didn't mean …" He moves toward me, reaching his hand out as if to comfort me in some manner. 

"No! Don't touch me. Don't make it any worse. Just go away."

"You don't mean that."

"Yes, I do. It was so much easier before you came back. So much easier to convince myself that I'd moved on." I don't know why I'm saying these things to him. I don't want to tell him these things. But it's almost as if I can't help myself. 

"Maybe you don't want to move on. Maybe I don't either. Maybe we should … give 'us' another try."

"I can't do that." My voice heavy with tears now, but some of the anger deflated.

"Can't? Or won't?"

"It's like you said in the letter … we're better off 'unfettered.' I wouldn't want you stuck with me." 

"I wouldn't be _stuck_ with you, Abby. I want you back."

"What makes you think I want you back? Let's not pretend that you came back for me. You had more important things on your mind than me."

"For your information, when I came back, I didn't want to _presume_ that I could ever have you back. I knew you would probably be angry with me. And you had every right. I wasn't even sure that getting back together would be the right thing. And then … when you seemed happy without me, I thought maybe it was best to leave well enough alone. But I just can't do it, Abby. Even after everything, I'm still drawn to you. I can't stay away. I don't want to. And I don't think you want me to, either. I can see it in your eyes Abby. You're not _really_ happy, are you? Deep down, you know as well as I do that something's missing."

"Just because you're here now … that doesn't make it all go away. You left me, you dumped me -- in a letter no less. I've never been so humiliated in my life. And then you come back here … but you weren't even thinking about me. As usual."

"Always about you, huh, Abby?"

"Yeah, that's right. It's all about me. I'm the selfish one here. Remind me again … who dumped who? Who was it that got left behind?"

"I know, Abby. And I'm sorry … but I'm trying to make it right."

"But you can't. You can't just make it go away. You can't just make me trust you again. It's not that easy."

"Abby …"

"You broke my heart, Carter. For the first time in my life, I thought that maybe there was a chance. That maybe happily ever after wasn't just for storybooks. I thought that maybe I could really be happy … with you. Maybe I could have the things I always wanted out of life. You promised you weren't going anywhere, and I believed you. I thought you were different from … everyone else in my life. Everyone I love always leaves. But I thought you were different." 

"You loved me?" 

"How you could not know that? I didn't mean for it to happen, but it did. And then you broke my heart. You told me you wanted to marry me. And then you walked away. Just to waltz back into my life again and mess everything up. I've been so mad … and I've wanted more than anything to hate you. But I can't."

"Why not?" 

I shake my head, refusing to answer.

"Abby, why not? Why don't you hate me? Why can't you hate me?" I just keep shaking my mutely, biting on my lip, trying to hold back the tears, not trusting myself to keep my feelings in check. 

"_Why_ can't you hate me Abby? Why? There's gotta be a reason." He knows. He already knows. Well, of course he does. 

"Abby? Why?" I'm shaking like a leaf, trying desperately to hold on to my composure. 

"Abby!" His tone is stern and even rough now. He grabs me by the shoulders and holds me at arms length, staring in my face. Bound and determined to make me say it. 

"Abby. Why? Why can't you hate me?" I can't stand it anymore. I can't be this close to him … just inches away from him … and lie to him. The tears are streaming down my cheeks now, mixing with the rain drops. And I can't stop them any more than I can stop the pouring rain. 

"Tell me, Abby!" He's staring at me, looking into my soul. And I can't fight it anymore. I can't fight him. I can't fight my feelings.

"Because I love you! Because I still love you. I probably always will." My voice cracks as a sob breaks loose and a new wave of tears washes over my cheeks. I slip out of John's grasp and fall to my knees, burying my head in my hands as I choke on my sobs while the rain pours down over me, soaking me to the bone. 


	2. Stay

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Title: Let Go of Your Heart

Author: Andrea 

Rating: R

Summary: A fight on the roof. If you want to know more, go back and read it again.

Author's Note: Thanks for the editing, COURTNEY. 

*~*~*~* Let Go of Your Heart _*~*~*~* _

"If you want it, come and get it, crying out loud. The love that I was giving you was never in doubt. Let go your heart. Let go your head. And feel it now." ~ David Gray, Babylon

*~*Chapter 2: Stay*~*

"Now I know that I did something wrong 'cause I missed you." 

*~*~*~*~*

"Abby. Oh, Abby." 

I feel his arms wrap around me even while I'm huddled on the ground. I try to shrug him off of me, wanting him to go away. Except … not really. It's been months now … months when all I've wanted was to feel his arms around me once again. Still, I try to push him away. I never wanted him to see me this way. But I guess it's too late now. 

The more I struggle, the tighter he holds on. So I finally let go. I stop trying to break free from his grasp and give myself over to it instead. He eases himself down so that's he sitting on the water-logged roof, his back up against the ledge. I'm pulled along with him and end up curled against him, leaning on his chest. For a long time that's how we remain. He doesn't say a word, just holds on tight, letting me cry. The rain stops as suddenly as it began, the storm moving on. Eventually my tears dry up, leaving me sniffling in between shuddery breaths. 

"Feel better?" He asks softly when I've quieted down.

"Not really," I say as I look at him. That's when I notice the tears in the corner of his eyes. "Why are you crying?" I ask, taking a deep breath. 

"Because it breaks my heart, seeing you like this. And knowing that I'm the one who caused you all this pain." 

For long moment our eyes are locked together as we share on of those significant looks that were such a trademark of ours in the past. I can't seem to break away from his gaze. And for the life of me, I can't think of anything to say. Oh, sure … _now_ I'm rendered speechless … after spilling my guts to Carter. Great timing. As usual.

"I never meant to hurt you, Abby. But now I know that I did." 

I look away from him then, because I'm not sure that I really believe that. Maybe he didn't realize the extent of the pain he was inflicting, but I think that on some level he was trying to hurt me … to get back at me for letting him down, for disappointing him. 

"John … you walked away from me. I know you felt like you had to go. And it's a good thing you did; you saved Luka's life. But the way you left … you just turned your back on me. Like I didn't even matter. Like I wasn't even an important enough part of your life for you to consider how I might feel."

I glance over at him and notice, for the first time, how tired he seems as he stares out into space. Maybe he's been as worn down by this as I have. He runs his hand along his brow and then down his face before beginning to speak in a voice that clearly reflects the exhaustion on his face. 

"You're right, Abby. I didn't think about how you felt. You asked me then if I thought about you when I left the first time. And the truth is, I really didn't. I was too wrapped up in my own … pain and confusion. I was selfish. And I was wrong. But I was just so hurt … by everything. And I felt like somehow, you'd slipped away from me. That whatever had made us 'us' was gone. And I couldn't stand how that felt. Being with you, but feeling that we weren't really together. Suddenly, it was harder to be near you than to be away from you. Because seeing you was a reminder of what we could have had … of what I wanted so much, but that had somehow slipped through my fingers. So if I thought of you at all … well, I didn't it know at that time … and even now I'm not sure … but maybe there was a part of me that wanted to see you hurting the way I did."

"Carter," I say, starting to pull away from him. This isn't making it any better, and I'm not sure I want to hear anymore. "Maybe we shouldn't do this. Maybe opening all these old wounds is just going to hurt us both more. Maybe I should just go, and we can pretend that none of this ever happened." I untangle myself from him and stand up.

"No. Abby … stay. Please, I want you to hear this. I know it's not easy … but if I've learned anything, it's that running away solves nothing. You can't avoid your feelings forever. No matter how hard you try."

"I'm not trying to run away."

"No, that's my job," he says with a wry chuckle. "I never should have accused you of being the one doing the running. Because I was just as guilty of that. Maybe even more than you. But I don't want to run now. I want to get this all out in the open."

"I just don't want to pour salt in the wound."

"But sometimes you have to open it back up for it to heal. Abby, we have to deal with this. We have to get it out. Otherwise, it'll just fester inside of us and eat away at us. I'm tired of feeling this way."

"What way?" I ask. We're both standing up now, leaning, side-by-side, against the low wall of the roof. I look over at him and notice for the first time how pale he looks. How drained he seems. He doesn't say anything for a long time. Finally, I ask him, "John? Feeling what way?" 

"Empty. Alone. Oh God, Abby … I really thought that we'd be better off on our own. I really did. The way I left you … the way I broke up with you, that wasn't right, and it wasn't fair to you. And I'm sorry. I'm truly sorry …" His voice breaks on the apology and the tears in his eyes slip down his cheeks this time. He brings his hand up to wipe them away. I reach out and take that hand in mine. 

"I know you are," I assure him. 

"I really thought it was for the best, you know? And I knew it was gonna hurt. For a while. But God, I was already in so much pain, maybe I thought it would be easier to take. It was too hard hoping, but worrying that I was hoping in vain. I just couldn't see a way for us to work it out. It seemed better to give up than to hope for something that I thought could never happen. So I left you. I gave up on us. And I went as far away as I could get -- to a place where I could be as busy as possible -- so that I wouldn't have to think about it or deal with how much I missed you. But God how I missed you. And that didn't go away. I kept thinking it would. But it didn't. And then I came back …" His voice is still strained and wavering as he trails off, turning his head to look out over the vista of the city around us.

"And it just got harder," I finish for him. I should now, I felt it myself.

"Yeah." He looks back at me, and give me a tentative little smile, squeezing my hand gently.

"I was okay while you were gone. Yeah, I kinda threw myself into work … but still, I was getting by. Trying hard to keep busy, like you said. But I was … pretty much happy. Happy to be back in med school. Happy to have made some new friends. Happy with myself. And most of the time … most of the time I could forget. But I can't tell you how many times I would learn some new procedure, or have a great save, or lose a patient, and the first thing I would think would be, 'I have to tell Carter about this.' And then it would hit me like a freight train: you were gone."

"I know what you mean," he says, a small and somewhat melancholy smile on his face. "There were so many times that I wished you were there. Like you said, it sneaks up on you. Sometimes it was with patients. I didn't realize how great it is to have someone at my side, anticipating my every move until I didn't have it any more. And there were other times … a sunset, a sudden storm … and I would think of you and wish that you were there to see it. And I thought it would happen less and less as time went on. But it didn't. I think it got worse, in fact. It got to the point where I didn't think I could possibly miss you any more than I already did. Until I came home. And here you were. In the same city, the same hospital, the same room. And still I miss you terribly. But it helps … a little … seeing you so … healthy, well-adjusted."

"Is that what you think?" I ask him, my tone sarcastic but playful. 

"Well, yeah. You seem to have it all together. You seem to have things under control." 

"Yeah, well … maybe I'm at semi-well-adjusted."

"But are you happy?" 

"Yeah. I guess. Sort of," I say, wishing that I could manage to sound more convincing.

"But you just said that you're glad to be back in med school, and you seem happier than you were with -- well, you seem happier … now." 

"I am. In some ways. But …" 

"But you're not _really_ happy are you?" He asks, sounding almost hopeful. He asked me the same thing before. I know what he's getting at, but I'm not sure I can give him an answer right now. Am I completely happy now? No. But was I completely happy when we were together? No. But that was more about me than him. Still, I don't if getting back together with him is the right thing. Is that what it will take to make me truly happy? I wish I knew. 

"I really thought that we'd both be better off apart." His voice is sad and wistful, almost as if he's talking to himself and not me. "And when I came home and you seemed so much more content, I thought I'd done the right thing. I just wanted you to be happy, Abby."

A resurgence of the anger that I felt before suddenly flairs up. I pull my hand out of his. "You have a hell of a way of showing it, Carter. And please, let's not pretend that you did what you did for me. You said it yourself. You weren't even thinking about me. You did what you wanted to do. What you thought was best for you. There may have been a time when you wanted to see me happy, but it certainly wasn't what you were feeling when you left me … or you never would have gone. At least, not like that." 

"I didn't really think you'd care," he says quietly, sounding as if he's on the verge of tears again. 

"How can you say that? I wouldn't care? How could you think that I wouldn't care? You were my … boyfriend. And my best friend. I was … in love with you. And you somehow thought that it wouldn't affect me at all when you went halfway around the world to a war-torn nation?" The sarcasm just drips off my words. 

"You had more important things on your mind," he replies with a bitter tone. 

"That's not fair, John. He's my brother. And I'm all he has."

"You were all I had, too." 

"Except for your parents. And your cousins. And your friends."

"But you were the only one that I could talk to. The only one I wanted to talk to. When Gamma died, I just felt so alone. And I wanted you to … I just wanted to know that I _wasn't _alone. That you would be there for me the way I was always there for you. And when you couldn't do that, I had to ask myself if things could ever work between us. And I had to wonder if you would ever be as invested in us as I was."

I can't believe it. I can't believe I'm hearing this. I look at him in disbelief, laughing with bitterness as I say, "If I would ever be as 'invested' as you? I was the one always chasing you, begging you to talk things out, to work things out. You were the one running away, even while you accused me of doing that very thing. And you were there, yes. And I appreciated that. But John, you were there for me when it was convenient. When it fed your ego. When you could play the hero and try to fix me."

"Oh, _that's_ not fair, Abby. I was there for you whenever you would let me be … whenever you didn't shut me out."

"I didn't shut you out." 

"Of course you did." 

"I was trying to protect you."

"But I didn't want to be protected," he says in exasperation. 

"And I didn't want to be fixed," I tell him, the tenor of my voice raising. 

"I was just trying to help you," he says, his voice taking on an almost pleading tone. 

"I didn't need you to help me. I just needed you to love me. I didn't need to be fixed because I was okay. I had some things I needed to work on, but I was trying. I really was. But it wasn't good enough for you. So you walked away. Just like everyone else. I never thought you'd be like everyone else." 

He takes a deep breath, letting it out as a long sigh. "I know, Abby. I know I let you down. I promised you. And then I broke that promise. I was a jerk. And a fool. I was blaming you for things that weren't your fault. It's just that when Gamma died … I didn't know how to handle it. All that pain. And the fear. And as if losing her wasn't bad enough, I felt like you were slipping away from me, too. But I thought that maybe that was for the best. I didn't want to love you anymore than I already did. I didn't want to need you anymore than I already did. Because losing Gamma was so hard …"

"So you cut me loose before you could lose me in some other way?" I ask. It's a strategy that I know well. 

"I guess," he shrugs. 

"It's scary, isn't it?"

"What?" He asks.

"Loving someone. Letting them in. Coming to depend on them." I stop for a minute, looking up at the stars, feeling the wind on my face. "I know that sometimes I didn't tell you everything. I didn't mean to shut you out, but I wasn't letting you in, either. And that was to protect you. In part. But it was also to protect myself. Because if I let myself depend on you, if I forgot how to deal with it on my own … where would I be when you left?" 

"I wasn't going to leave, Abby."

"But you did." 

"I wanted to marry you." 

"But it didn't feel right." 

"I just wasn't sure. I wasn't sure that we were ready. And it was too important to me … you were too important to me for me to risk messing it up. But I guess that's what happened anyway." 

"Maybe you just weren't sure that I was the one. Maybe you just weren't sure that you really loved me." 

"No. I loved you, Abby. Still do, as a matter of fact." He turns to face me, taking my hands in both of his. "It took me a while to figure that out. But now I know. It's not just that I'm drawn to you. It's not that I need you in some unhealthy, co-dependent way. It's that I love you. And no matter what I do or where I go, I can't seem to stop. It's that simple. I love you, Abby." 

"Nothing is ever simple with us." 

"No, maybe not. But I love you. And if you mean what you said before, you love me, too."

"I meant it."

"I know." But his eyes are questioning, his look imploring me to reassure him. 

"I love you." And I do. There's not really any escaping that. I'm just not sure what it means.

"I love you, too." His relief is obvious as a big grin spreads across his face. "And that's all that really matters, right?" 

"John …" I start, pulling away from him, walking a few feet away before turning back to look at him. "It's not that easy. Not now. Yes, I love you. But I'm not sure that I can trust you. And I'm not sure that we should be together."

I can tell by the way his shoulders slump that he's disappointed, maybe even hurt. But we have to be honest with each other. If there's any hope for us at all, we have to learn how tell the truth about what we're feeling.

"I don't blame you for not trusting me. And I'm sure that giving you my word won't do much to reassure you. I made a lot of mistakes. Big mistakes. But I won't make them again. I like to think that I've learned something from them. And even though we've still got a lot to work out, I'm hoping that you'd be willing to at least … give us a chance. Give me a chance. To make it up to you. God knows, I've got a lot to make up to you. I don't know if you can forgive me, but I hope that you can. If not now, maybe … someday." 

He gives me a hopeful little smile. All I can do is look back at him. I can only imagine that the look on my face must be somewhere between trepidation and exhilaration. A part of me wanted nothing more than to hear him say these words to me. But another part has been terrified of hearing them. And now I'm torn. And I mostly feel confused. And I think he sees my mixed emotions in my eyes. He reaches out tentatively and takes my hand, pulling me closer to him so that we stand just a few inches apart. He looks into my eyes, and I can see the depth of the emotion in his. 

"I know that I hurt you," he continues, his voice illustrating his sincerity. "And I know that I was selfish. And I would do anything … _anything_ if I could just take it all back. But I can't. And I know this won't mean much coming from me now, but I promise you that if you just give me a chance, I'll spend the rest of my life making you glad that you did. And doing everything I can to make you happy. I took you for granted. I took _us_ for granted. But that won't happen again. I know better now. If I'm lucky enough to ever have the privilege of calling you mine again, I won't ever forget just how fortunate I am. Because all I really want is another chance at happiness. With you. Because, Abby … you're it for me. You're the one. Without you, I don't think I could ever really be truly happy."

He brushes the back of his finger lightly along my cheek, his eyes once again begging me to answer him. And again, I know the question without having to hear it, but I don't know what my answer will be. Is this a risk I'm willing to take? He left me once. He broke my heart. What kind of fool would open herself up to that all over again? 

"Abby?" The tears are collecting in his eyes again. And I can feel them welling up in my eyes, too. "What do you think? Do you think you can forgive me? Will you let me prove to you that you can trust me?"

I don't know. Oh God, I just don't know. My head is screaming at me to run away before it's too late. But my heart says something else entirely. 

"Please, Abby? I know I've caused you so much pain. But I love you. And you love me. And I think we owe it to ourselves to try again. Please? I promise you won't regret it."

I wish I could believe that. I wish I could be sure. But there are no guarantees. No guarantees at all.

"Abby? Will you give 'us' another chance?" 


End file.
